


The Framing of the Scene

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Series: Final Straw [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coma, Cutting, Depression, Exhaustion, Falling In Love, Healing, How to Destroy Angels, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Protective Gabriel, Romance, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tragedy, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't want to remember. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be privy to Dean falling apart, shouldn’t be here when Dean is screaming at him to leave, that he doesn't belong here. He shouldn't be here, there's no reason for him to be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Framing of the Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for self-harm. This is angsty and sorta but not completely tragic; damn, it’s hard to label. I hate using one-sided for a pairing, unless one of the characters were to straight out say they don’t love or hate the other person. But I assume by most standards that this is considered one-sided, so I just thought I’d throw it out there. Okay... enough with my rambling.
> 
>  _Series:_ Pt. 1 of Final Straw
> 
>  _Soundtrack:_ How to Destroy Angels’ ‘The Space in Between’ (Dead Errant Soul Remix)

_~Opened up, proudly on display_  
 _What we try so hard to hide away_  
 _Blinding light illuminates the scene_  
 _Try to fill the spaces in between~_

 

This is what he gets for wanting to know Dean Winchester better. This is what he gets for all the time put in, _his own time_ where he could have been doing anything else. All the energy he spent, all the waiting and screaming at Dean, not actually literally but it seemed loud enough in his head to be an outward display of his frustration and rage. 

He gets _this._

He doesn't want to remember. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be privy to Dean falling apart, shouldn’t be here when Dean is yelling at him to leave, that he doesn't belong here. He shouldn't be here, there's no reason for him to be but something inside Gabriel telling him to be, words that's he never heard before. He's currently head over heels deep in the process of being scarred by Dean Winchester himself, his words, his anger, the intense death glares he gives him that the archangel can't laugh at. 

Can't laugh at, that is, without the laugh dying in his throat and the remnants of it exiting his mouth in a dark, bitter chuckle or even a full out sob. 

He doesn’t want to remember the moment Dean grew frighteningly intense as he stared at anything but Gabriel. But the things he remembers most are his wants, his want then to scoot closer to the human so he could hear his heartbeat when his harsh breathing morphed into an agonizing silence. 

To confirm Dean was still alive, that Gabriel wasn’t alone in the aftermath. 

Maybe he’s being selfish in all of this, maybe he has been all along, coming to stay with Dean, throwing himself back into his life whether the hunter wanted it or not. Maybe it’s because he’s been alone all his life, his brothers turning their backs on him to go and feud about some trivial nonsense that he just had to get away from. Alone in the way that no one that was at his beck and call ever really needed him. Needed him like Dean needs him now. 

He can’t remember the moment when Dean thought it would be okay to take it upon himself to hide all his hurt inside, away from the archangel’s knowing eyes. But he hates it. 

And he doesn't want to remember, but all he can do is remember. The bullet entering Sam's head in the exact spot where it wouldn't kill him, the truth that would give Dean hope, that would keep Dean holding onto his own life tightly, a crushing grip Gabriel wanted to take half if not all the weight of. 

The truth and earth shattering aftermath that is making Dean delve so deep inside himself, and Gabriel doesn't know if he'll be enough to draw him out. 

Sam's in that hospital bed and not Dean. Dean is alive and awake and breathing right beside him, and he so wanted to put his arm around him as they sat in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, waiting for news, waiting for anything. 

Maybe if he had pushed Dean enough, shoved his love right in his face and forced him to take it without looking back, then he would have been able to hold him or at least put his hands on some part of him that would quell the pressure within him. But Dean just sat next to him, not getting up to move away from Gabriel but not acknowledging his presence either. He just sat there, shaking, occasionally pacing and probably praying every available second for Cas to get his ass to where they were. 

No answer. Gabriel didn't expect anything different. 

It only hurt to know that Dean wanted Cas with him and not Gabriel, not Gabriel who was already sitting right next to him, who had been with him for the past month and not Castiel. How physically close he was should have convinced Dean, was _meant_ to convince Dean that he wouldn’t just up and leave. 

_It’s not your fault!_ It was the only thing Gabriel wanted to say, wanted to scream but whenever his mouth opened, nothing came out. He wanted to force Dean to understand this fact, he was willing to do anything for him to believe it. 

But he never would, and he would never accept someone else saying it either. Especially Gabriel. 

Gabriel, who ditched his family because he didn’t want to stand up to them. Gabriel, who doesn’t care about a thing in this world or the next according to Dean. According to the human he’s been falling in love with for who knows how long. 

Gabriel, who _wants_ to help, _needs_ to help but _can’t_ help. 

After the news there was only more waiting, in Sam's room, endless hours that were drawn out to excruciating seconds. Dean sat and waited and barely moved for the first two days, and then Gabriel shoved food and coffee down his throat and pushed him into the bathroom to get a shower. Dean obeyed, but he didn't look at Gabriel when he offered him coffee or a comfier chair. 

Two days after that and there was Gabriel transforming into a nervous wreck over the Winchester boy. He grew uncomfortable hanging around a comatose Sam when Dean wasn’t around. Who knew what Dean could be doing? Who knew what would happen to Dean with his guards down? Following him or tracking him down didn’t help matters any though. Gabriel might have felt better knowing exactly where the hunter was and able to watch him like a hawk, but Dean blew up at him more often than not. 

This was nothing like Dean pushing Cas to not invade his personal space. 

This was a thousand times worse. 

It wasn’t long before there was screaming in the hospital parking lot, arguing that would just linger on and cause Gabriel to feel even more guilt and misery than he already did. He didn’t mind though, Dean had to take it out on someone and that someone just happened to be him, and he understood that. Dean would lay his hands on him and shake him and beg him and tell him he was useless until Gabriel actually started to completely believe it himself. 

Through anything and everything, he would let Dean do whatever he cared to do to him, he didn’t complain or argue. He would keep on telling the human that he didn’t have it in his power to save Sam, because he wanted Dean to believe that more than he ever wanted anyone to believe anything. He would tell him the truth: his mojo wasn't exactly up to par and that the coma Sam was currently in was just too deep to draw him out of. 

And then he would hope that it made its way through the Winchester’s thick head. 

They would argue back and forth because Dean needed to blame someone other than himself, even though the only person he really blamed _was_ himself and no one else. Gabriel kept his own part in it light with a severe lack of insults, and Dean was the vehement one, the human who wouldn’t let go, who wouldn’t let Gabriel walk away, which he really didn’t want to anyway, and who wouldn’t give the archangel a break unless his voice was so raw he couldn’t speak another word. 

To Gabriel it was painful and yet it was sufficient. 

Sufficient for the amount of attention and recognition he wanted from Dean. 

Dean would scream some more when his voice permitted him, and then he would simply slide down against the brick wall when he was spent and start sobbing, sobs so loud and so heart-wrenching that they ripped Gabriel apart from the inside out.

If he didn’t get depressed just by watching Dean, let alone bringing the tragedy that had befallen Sam into the picture, then he really was a dick, only one of the many insults Dean graced his ears and near to bursting vessel with. A deep sorrow was forming and was becoming a permanent resident not only in his vessel's very bones, but in his grace. 

A deep sorrow he couldn't have even shaken from the onset. 

After a little while of this, Dean grew numb and unresponsive to Gabriel's words and his light touches, his fingers brushing against the human so softly like a fragile thing that might crumble beneath him any second. He would eat what Gabriel got him and he would eat like it was nothing more than a chore, that he couldn’t even be bothered to take care of his own body anymore. He would get sick and shake so hard Gabriel was sure his teeth would fall out, and he would hold Dean upright and in place when he was ready to fall over from the exertion of his body rejecting whatever it was he had just eaten. 

He would ignore Gabriel most of the time, and the few moments where he happened to breathe out a mumbled ‘thanks,’ the heart within his vessel would painfully do this flip-flop thing until he felt like it would vacate his chest in a sudden rush. 

He wasn't strong enough to save Sam; the words were a never-ending litany in his head that wouldn't leave him alone. But it seemed like Dean didn't even care about that anymore, or maybe he just believed Gabriel. No matter what else may happen to come though, he needed to believe that he was strong enough to save Dean. And he hoped, he really did, and then he walked into the bathroom, worrying about how long Dean had been gone, and all those hopes faded like they weren’t even there at all. 

Every instinct in him is screaming at him to back away, that this isn’t his battle, that Dean is not his charge. But he can’t draw away from Dean, even if he is out of league with this, even if he doesn’t know how in the world he can ever convince Dean that this is _wrong,_ that he is _better than this_ and that Gabriel simply won’t tolerate it. 

He blinks once, twice, unable to understand what he is seeing. Everything morphs into a dizzying red, courtesy of his rage and the substance currently dripping from Dean’s arms and onto the tile floor. 

Dean must be a complete idiot if he thought he could get away with this without Gabriel knowing. Dean’s a pretty smart guy though, so Gabriel figures he must have believed the archangel would know, but that he just wouldn't step in. 

As if Gabriel would just _let_ Dean do this, _let_ Dean hurt himself and just watch and pretend nothing is wrong. To stand on the sidelines and stare in what he suspects the human would perceive as glee as Dean breaks inside, something inside him cracking to the point where he needs something to take his mind off the _hurt,_ the _agony_ he must feel. 

As if Gabriel would _abandon_ Dean and not feel such _guilt_ over it. 

He is mad as he crosses the few feet over to Dean, angry as he hones in on the mixture of fear, grief, pain and embarrassment in the human's eyes, rage-driven when he grabs the sharp knife out of his hand and sends it out of this dimension. And Gabriel feels like he might just explode all over this wretched bathroom as Dean pulls his sleeves down to hide the still flowing blood, _his_ still flowing blood and the cuts, the cuts that mar his already scarred from decades of hunting yet still flawless skin.

Denial. Isolation. It’s where Dean’s at, it’s what Dean wants. 

Gabriel can’t let him have it. 

Without touch and with only a mere thought, Dean’s skin is stitched back together and the blood flow stops, slowing Gabriel’s rapidly beating heart. He holds his grace back as best as he can in the midst of his concern for the human and a lack of physical contact, but it doesn’t change the fact that it is screaming at him to touch Dean and to comfort him. 

Dean turns away from him and Gabriel swears that this must be the final straw, but he lets the human storm out of the bathroom. He wants to run after him, wants to scream bloody murder at him and ask him how he could be so stupid, why he has to label everything as his fault and punish himself for it. He wants to tell Dean what a pain in his ass he is, wants to voice the threat to leave the hunter and never come back because it's not worth watching him, it's not worth sticking around. 

But he doesn't do any of these things as Dean's blood lingers on his fingers, as he looks down at it and pictures Dean's lifeless body on the ground, an ever increasing amount of blood spreading out towards Gabriel's standing figure, a monument to what might happen if the archangel suddenly stops caring about Dean Winchester so much, or denies he ever actually cared at all. 

He doesn't do any of those things because they are all _lies._

Gabriel doesn't leave or tell Dean that he will leave because Dean is his, his own problem to deal with, his own mess to clean up. He loves Dean, and he won't abandon him like Dean wants him to, like Dean suspects he will. 

Gabriel leaves the bathroom then, the previous vision snapping away like a closing book. He checks in on Sam once more on his way out, but his heart isn't in staying like he promised his brother. In any other moment, he would take pleasure in going to Dean, to show him how wrong he is, to put himself on full display to somehow prove that he is as permanent in the hunter’s life as the doctors say Sam's coma will be. 

But there is no pleasure in this; there are precious seconds as he's walking towards the exit where he physically can't move because of how scared he is. Dean will push him away, there's no questioning that, though Gabriel actually aches at the thought. He steels himself abruptly, clearing his mind before the fear returns to plague him again, and vanishes, wanting to be rid of the hospital for the time being. 

Without thinking, something in Gabriel always steers him in whatever direction Dean is in, and before he can tell himself _no,_ he's only a foot or two away from the very human and he couldn’t possibly leave then. What excuse would he have that wouldn't set him up for embarrassment? It's been like this ever since the archangel came back of his own accord into the hunter’s life. You could count Sam too, but for the past month and a half Gabriel has mostly stuck around Dean. Something inside him calls out to the human like a beacon he can't shake. He can't not give in, and he can't even tell himself that he doesn't want to give in. 

He is _not_ going to say that his grace is reaching out to Dean, because that's simply too much to think about.

This moment isn't any different, without even coming up with a general direction in which to head, it only takes a mere moment before he is once again inside the motel room Dean's been wasting away in, when he's not wasting away at the hospital, that is, for the past two weeks. Dean isn't here yet, he can sense it even before he gets his bearings, and he waits patiently for him to return, mostly expecting him to come home drunk again. He isn’t though, when he does make it back twenty minutes later. 

Gabriel doesn't think there's a worse sight out there than the one he is beholding now. 

Dean is incredibly pale, bloodshot eyes sunken in his head, only proof of what Gabriel doesn’t even want to think about. He also can’t not notice the dark as night circles under them that only show the archangel just how little sleep Dean has been getting. Gabriel catches a brief glimpse of the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose that would be a delight to see, if only he didn't look so much like a walking corpse. 

He catches sight of Gabriel and freezes in the doorway for a half-second, then brushes his presence off and closes the door. Gabriel steps forward, almost reaches for him but then decides to give Dean his space when he notices how much his hands are shaking. 

“Just need to lay down for a minute, Gabriel.” _As if that’s gonna do him any good._ _Kid looks like he needs to sleep for about a month._ _But go right ahead, kiddo._ _This archangel’s not gonna stop you._ Walking closer to Gabriel to get to the bed doesn't do anything to lessen how worried he is, and he grasps Dean's shoulder before he can stop himself. The reaction is instantaneous and completely expected, he’s just amazed the human’s still standing at this point. “Fuck...,” he brushes the archangel's hand off his shoulder, “would you just lemme alone?” 

Gabriel doesn't say anything, hurt by Dean's dismissal of the comfort he's offering up to him on a silver platter. He beats him to the bed by a long shot, he would have even if he were to do it the human way, and he pulls down the lone, threadbare sheet, half expecting the human to lay on top of it anyway when he ends up finally reaching the bed in his exhausted state. His eyes are red and dry and they look like they hurt, as if he's shed too many tears for the world to handle and in turn they prevented this outward appearance of his grief. Gabriel pities him, he really does, even if he does hate that particular feeling. 

It takes Dean longer than it should to remove his jacket, and then he is falling face first onto the bed, on top of the sheet, Gabriel feels he must add, and he sighs at how well he is beginning to know Dean. He sets a glass of water for him on the nightstand, one he won't drink from because, again, Gabriel knows Dean.

“I'll keep an eye on Sam.” As if he even needs to tell him, as if Dean wouldn't kick his ass if he wasn't watching his younger brother like a hawk. 

Dean mumbles something incoherent and drifts off, his long-sleeved t-shirt sticking to his bloody arms and the rest of his body in days old sweat. His hair is damp and his forehead is dry and hot as Gabriel’s fingers brush against it. He shivers as he takes in the state of the hunter up close, knowing that if he chooses to stay with him, he really is in it for the long haul. 

Though it’s not like anything else would be as worth his time as this is. _As Dean Winchester is._

Gabriel sighs as he sits down on the edge of the bed to watch over him, and promptly heals the recent marks carved into Dean's arms. He can only pray that Dean will let him become a permanent fixture in his life, that Dean will grow to accept how much Gabriel cares for him. 

If he doesn't, Dean's anguish and self-destruction will drag the both of them down to depths Gabriel can't even imagine.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series, so there will be at least a second and third part, just as separate pieces and not as chapters to this.


End file.
